


in the morning when i wake

by serendipityinwords



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, post 3 11, rover fic, spoilers for 3 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6615871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipityinwords/pseuds/serendipityinwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone else is asleep in the rover and Clarke just wants to talk to Bellamy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the morning when i wake

**Author's Note:**

> Because only good things have ever come from The Rover. I have a lot of feelings about it, okay?
> 
> Title from Bloom by Paper Kites

The screams of the dead are still echoing in her ears when Clarke wakes up. She tastes blood on the tip of her tongue. She always does. It’s a dream. It’s a memory. A reminder. A familiar darkness she has to shove down. It comes easy to her now. Blink away the tears and keep going.

The thing that’s different, though, is her head on Bellamy’s lap and his fingers carding through her hair. She remembers; they’re in the rover. She’s with Bellamy. She stirs, enough for him to notice. He lifts his hand so she can still feel its warmth hovering over the side of her face. She waits a second. Two. Three. His hands drop to his side and she sits up.

She takes a quick look around the rover, blinking away the sleep. Everyone’s sleeping except Sinclair, whose turn it is to drive, if she recalls correctly. And of course, there was her and Bellamy.

“Nightmare?” he asks, voice gruff. She looks at him. He looks exhausted. Shadows under his eyes, slight scruff where he probably hasn’t shaved in more than a couple of days. But his eyes are soft and there’s a smile ghosting his lips. Clarke hadn’t actually believed that he would ever look at her like that again. That anyone would ever look at her, this gentle. She swallows and nods. A beat, and then, “I get them too.”

And maybe Clarke is selfish, but she doesn’t want to have to think about it. She doesn’t want to remember her leaving him to fend them off on his own. Especially when she hadn’t given him a choice. She suffered alone because she wanted to, he did it because he had to. She can’t forgive herself for that. But that’s just one of the things on a long list of things she can’t forgive herself for. She doesn’t respond for a good couple of minutes. She knows he isn’t waiting for it either. In the end though, she does. If only because she wants to talk. She wants to hear him talk. She wants— she doesn’t know what she wants. All she knows is that the silence is hurting her bones and it’s so fucking tedious.

“How’s your hand?” she settles on. The bandages she had wrapped around his knuckles are turning crusty with dried blood and her hand itches with the urge to fix it. But he’s clenching his fist hard and she knows better. She’ll take care of it later. They have time.

His voice is smaller than she’s ever heard it when he says, “Healing.” _Will I?_ He had asked, broken. She can’t forget about it, as much as she’d like to. What ALIE said keeps replaying over and over again and it’s just— _how can he not know?_

“Good,” she says, short. She considers leaving it at that. Considers letting time heal everything. Hoping this fucked up world will override her priorities and maybe, just maybe, she won’t care that Bellamy Blake doesn’t _know_ what he is to her _._ But she knows it’s not very likely. She knows she has to tell him. If not for him, than for herself. “It bothers me.”

Bellamy looks up, startles. The light from outside plays on his face and for a second, he looks like that boy she’d met at the dropship. He looks like he did the first time he’d ever felt the sun on his skin. Atlas before the world broke his shoulders. “The nightmares?” he asks.

Clarke snorts. _Yeah, they do_. But she can live with that. She’s taught herself how. She has no experience with this, however. This overwhelming urge to fix. “No,” she replies. “What Raven—Alie said about us.”

His eyes dart slightly, landing on his sister’s sleeping form. Even asleep, Octavia looks like she’s ready for war. She briefly wonders what he sees. That little girl hiding beneath the floors? Or the girl who gave him all those scars? She swallows hard enough to hurt. She doesn’t want to think about that either.

“Clarke—“

“Let me finish,” she interrupts. “Please.” She wants to sound firm, sure of herself. But all she hears are the pleas of a desperate girl. She doesn’t know what he hears but he nods once and studies his bandages. She knows what he’s doing. She can’t meet his eye either.

“If it weren’t for you, we’d all be dead,” she bursts out, tripping over each word. It’s true. He knows and she knows. But she also knows what he’s going to say before he says it. Because it’s what she would have said too.

He scoffs, a bitter sound that breaks her heart a little more. “And how many more would be alive?”

“You can’t think like that,” she says, quiet. He clenches his jaw, the only indication that he heard what she’d said. She wants to say that if he thinks that way, what would she be? But, even she knows, she can’t expect him to forgive himself for the things she can’t forgive herself for. They have each other for that. 

She sighs, resting her head against the rover wall. The vibrations do nothing to soothe the ache in her neck, still sore from sleeping on his lap the whole time. If she tries really hard, she can still feel his fingers running through her hair. She doesn’t.

She tries again. A different approach. No less honest. “Without you, I’d be,” she pauses, not knowing what to say. _A monster._ She wonders what he would say to that.  He wouldn’t believe her. He doesn’t know. And she doesn’t know how to tell him. _What else?_ She thinks. _Lonely, god so lonely_. _Lost_. _Tired all the damn time_. “A lot worse off,” she decides.

His fingers, fidgeting with the bandages just a second ago, still. She weaves her fingers, tentatively, through his and waits. A couple of seconds and he squeezes her hand, softer than she’s used to. She’s relieved. So fucking relieved. And she’s always known, but it’s never been clearer; she’ll always need him.

“You’re so important to me, Bellamy Blake,” she whispers. His head is tilted down and his dark curls fall over his eyes and her heart stutters a little. She looks at their entwined hands and smiles. She gets this. She didn’t think she would, but she does. So, she goes on. “I can live in a world where everyone is dead and dying and we have to do terrible things to survive but I can’t live in a world where you don’t know that. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that we’re going to do this together.”

He looks up at her, so raw and exposed, she feels naked _for_ him. But she knows she can’t be faring any better. His hands are so warm, she focuses on that. She’s been so cold for so long.

“Thank you,” he finally says. She knows he still doesn’t really understand. And that’s fair. It’s not something she can explain to anyone. Vaguely, she knows he knows that she loves him. But, he will never know that she loves him like this. Willingly. Instinctively. Unconditionally. She love him big and simple. Without ever having to second-guess it. She’ll love however long she gets to love him. And she doesn’t care what he does. That will never change.  And that’s thing, isn’t it? If she can love like this, maybe there’s some hope for her after all. She’ll hold on to that. To him. Her hands in his, heart with him, soul mending. And it almost feels vulgar; to love without feeling like she’s going to break him. But Bellamy’s different. He’s always been. 

She loves him for it.

He holds her gaze and smiles. Small but there. She’s so glad. “I’m glad you’re here with us.”

She doesn’t really understand the way he loves her either. But he loves her. She feels it like a blanket. She feels it like air itself. Like she’ll turn around to find the world crumbling but _he’ll_ be there with her. She can’t really wrap her mind around it. She’s coming to realize, she doesn’t need to. She smiles back; just as small, just as there.

The rover’s still going and so are they.

For now, this is good. This is all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm idontgiveaneffie on tumblr. Come cry with me about fictional characters.


End file.
